


keep a good tongue in thy head

by Dhillarearen



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: First Kiss, Getting Together, M/M, brief Sanderson-typical self-directed ableist language, includes a kiss without explicit permission but everyone wants and enjoys it, mention of possible future shakadolin at the end bc ot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 08:57:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dhillarearen/pseuds/Dhillarearen
Summary: Renarin has asked Adolin not to fight with Kaladin, so when Renarin comes across Adolin and Kaladin doing just that, Adolin panics and kisses Kaladin so Renarin doesn't find out.(based onthistumblr post)





	keep a good tongue in thy head

What, must our mouths be cold?

 

— _The Tempest,_ Act I Scene 1

* * *

 

Adolin had promised Renarin.

Renarin asking for something was uncommon enough to make Adolin take notice, but he didn’t need the “please” or the novelty to convince him: he’d never been able to say no to his little brother. Not when he still remembered the days before Father had thrown himself into honor, when Adolin would take Renarin by the hand and lead him out into the garden to play knights so that Renarin wouldn’t see Father passed out in the middle of the floor from drink, _again_ , the housemaid dusting around him with an air of resignation.

So when Renarin had taken him aside the week before and said “Please try to play nice with Kaladin, he’s a good person,” Adolin had agreed. It shouldn’t have been something Adolin needed to be reminded about, anyway. Kaladin _was_ a good person, in his paranoid, grumpy way, and even Adolin knew that antagonizing one of the precious Knights Radiant was a bad idea.

But Kaladin was _just_

_so_

_infuriating._

They’d been sparring hand-to-hand, because Adolin needed the practice: with new powers of legend popping up all over the place, it was becoming more and more likely that even a Shardbearer would end up needing to resort to fisticuffs. Kaladin was better than Adolin had expected. He knew the man would be good, of course. He wouldn’t have asked for him as a partner otherwise. What he hadn’t anticipated was _how_ good. Perhaps even better than Adolin himself. Slightly.

All he’d done was taunt Kaladin a little, trying to cover his need to regain his breath after breaking free of a grapple that had nearly had him, and suddenly Kaladin’s face had gone dark as storms and he had _charged._ Adolin had stuck to blocking and defending (honest, Ren) but then Kaladin had said something about his father and political weakness and _nobody was allowed to speak ill of Father, not even if they were magical Radiants who shot sparkles out their arse._

If he and Kaladin hadn’t been sparring, the ardents would likely have intervened. As it was, they must have thought it was part of training, because nobody came forward to stop Adolin from pounding Kaladin into the sand. Or _trying_ to, at least; the man was slippery as a fish, and despite his wiry frame there was power behind his punches. Adolin pinned him only for Kaladin to flip over and wriggle free, his elbow smashing into Adolin’s face as Adolin tried to hold onto him. Adolin felt something crunch, but there wasn’t any time to check the damage, because Kaladin had regained his footing and Adolin had to duck and sweep his legs out from under him to keep from being thrown. 

At least his nose wasn’t broken. Adolin couldn’t feel any blood trickling down.

Kaladin was at the advantage out on the sands, his greater speed letting him dance away and come back almost too quickly for Adolin to react. Growling, Adolin forced Kaladin back towards the walkway and the wall beyond, briefly incapacitating him by a kick to the kneecap and then using Kaladin’s moment of distraction to slam him against the wall.  
  
“Take back what you said,” he hissed, crowding close to Kaladin to keep him from getting any leverage. He met Kaladin’s eyes and there was _hatred_ there, raw, reckless even. Adolin drove his fist into Kaladin’s side and Kaladin took the hit without flinching, driving his knee up into Adolin’s crotch. Of course Adolin shouldn’t have expected him to fight fair. Eyes watering, he tightened his hold on Kaladin and was swinging back his arm for another strike when he saw Renarin step out of a door in the training building, barely an arm’s length away.

Adolin panicked.

In his defense, there were only so many “playing nice” reasons for two people to be shoved up against each other. Furthermore, Adolin was well-versed in only a particular subset of those reasons, so he really couldn’t be blamed that his first and only idea was what it was.

“Sorry, kill me later,” he said, and kissed Kaladin square on the mouth.

Kaladin froze in surprise and, no doubt, anger. Adolin expected at any moment for him to snap out of it and shove him away, ruining the deception, but the important thing was that Renarin was backing away, stammering apologies. Just a little longer.Storms,Adolin was going to _make_ Kaladin take some of his lip balm, how did the man stand this? Yes, there were Kaladin’s hands, curling around the lapels of his jacket to—

_Not_ push him away. Pull him forward.

Turned out, bridgeboy could _kiss._

Adolin’s knees went weak, like some storming bedtime-tale damsel, before he got himself under control and grabbed Kaladin around the waist to give back as good as he got. He tilted his head, fixing the angle so their noses didn’t get in the way (his still hurt, and the reminder made him grip Kaladin tighter and bite cruelly at his mouth) and shoved his empty hand into Kaladin’s hair to grab a fistful. His knuckles scraped on the stone behind Kaladin’s head and Kaladin’s hair was tangled and full of sand, but Adolin didn’t care if it meant Kaladin would keep kissing him like that. Like Kaladin couldn’t decide whether to melt or to seize Adolin by the throat and throw _him_ against the wall, and Adolin was there with him, his rage not dampened by his desire but made stronger, made vicious, made _blazing._

Adolin grinned into the kiss and it felt knife-sharp,  more savage triumph than joy. He slammed Kaladin’s head back against the wall, barely cushioned by his hand, and Kaladin responded by raking sharp nails over the skin of Adolin’s hip where his shirt had become untucked during the sparring. Heat sparked up Adolin’s spine and he shoved even _closer,_ so their feet overlapped and he could feel the individual buttons of Kaladin’s uniform pressing into his chest.

Eventually the need for oxygen was strong enough for Adolin to pull away, though not very far. Kaladin’s hair was a mat around Adolin’s hand, his eyes wide and his lips swollen. They stared at each other for a moment, both panting.

Adolin’s brain made an ominous _click_ as it locked back into place.

“Dammnation,” he said, in the same tone Zahel had used whenever Adolin had made a particularly stupid error.

Kaladin didn’t say a word. He finally shoved Adolin off and ran, leaving Adolin to slump against the wall with a hand over his face, confused and still angry and wobbling on legs that seemed to have been replaced with pudding.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t talk for two days, after.

Every time Adolin tried to draw Kaladin aside for a discreet word Kaladin either suddenly remembered he was needed somewhere else (which was right proper chull-droppings, Adolin would bet money that Kaladin had never forgotten an order in his _life_ ) or performed a masterful impression of a stone block, staring past Adolin’s shoulder and not responding. 

The truth was, Adolin didn’t know what he would say even if Kaladin let him. _Sorry I kissed you? I made a promise to my brother, I couldn’t let him down? Why did you kiss me back when two seconds before you were trying to kill me?_

_Could we maybe do it again sometime_?

If someone had told Adolin a year ago that he’d be lying awake at night because the captain of his father’s guard was an inexplicably good kisser, he’d have laughed himself hoarse. Adolin punched his pillow and tried in vain to stop remembering how perfectly Kaladin had fit into his arms. And all of Kaladin’s intensity, all that _passion,_ focused on Adolin. It would be enough to send anyone’s head spinning in circles.

Then there was the fact that the kiss had been in public, which made Adolin want to dive into the nearest chasm just thinking about. He could only pray that nobody besides Renarin had seen. Ren was the last person to go spreading something like that around.

_You’d figure,_ Adolin thought, giving up on attempting sleep and flopping over onto his back to gaze up at the shadowed ceiling, _that after all my practice I’d know how to deal with this sort of thing._

 

* * *

 

On the third day, Adolin tried a different tactic. He got an ardent to write an innocuous but firm note, and left it with an entirely-too-smug bridgeman for Kaladin to have read to him once he got off duty.

Waiting on him was excruciating. At the first knock, Adolin was out of his chair and flinging open the door to his chambers to reveal Kaladin, posture as rigid as the spear he so often carried, the note held up before him.

“I’m sorry I provoked you,” Adolin blurted. “I don’t know what I said, but it was out of line. And I’m sorry I kissed you without your consent. You can report me to the ardents if you want, but I’d really like to know why you kissed me back.”

Kaladin stood there for a moment longer, his expression hard. Then he drooped, letting the hand with the note fall to his side. For the first time Adolin saw how exhausted Kaladin was. Maybe he should have left him alone.

“I’m coming in,” Kaladin said, shoving the note into his pocket.  Adolin stepped back to let him through, closing the door behind him. Once Kaladin was safely inside Adolin clasped his hands behind his back and bounced forward on the balls of his feet, all his senses on high alert.

In contrast, Kaladin felt for one of the posts of Adolin’s bed and leaned against it. “I don’t think your father is letting himself be torn apart by factions,” he said quietly. “Or, I do, but I don’t think it’s his fault. The other highprinces are simply too corrupt to follow a good man for the sake of it.” Kaladin ran a hand through his hair, and Adolin had a vivid tactile memory of doing the same thing. He flexed his fingers.

“And the kiss?” Adolin asked, clenching the traitorous fingers into a fist.

“A mistake. I shouldn’t have done it. I’m not going to report you, don’t worry.” Kaladin’s voice was bitter.

What could Adolin say to that? The flattery he usually used on people he kissed wouldn’t fit here. Acting on instinct, sure he was making things worse, Adolin stepped forward and laid a hand on Kaladin’s arm. 

“It may have been a mistake, but only in timing,” he said.“Let me do this properly. I can take you to one of Sebarial’s restaurants, treat you to dinner. Even if all it is is an apology.”

Kaladin eyed him warily. “You’re betrothed to Shallan.”

“The possibility of you…may have…come up, once or twice. She knows I…well. In any case, she’s assured me she wouldn’t mind if you were to accept the offer I made just now. Encouraged it, in fact. I think she's of the opinion that sharing me would be less work.” Shallan had also expressed similar interest, but Adolin was going to let her handle that. He’d mucked this up enough already.

Kaladin pondered for far longer than ten heartbeats while Adolin tried not to hold his breath. At last Kaladin muttered something that sounded like a curse and covered Adolin’s hand with his own.

“I’m mad to agree to this,” he said. “If my men rise up against me on the basis I’m no longer fit to lead, it’ll be your fault, lighteyes.”

“I can accept that,” Adolin said, chancing a smile. 

Kaladin rolled his eyes and hauled Adolin in.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The thing Adolin said that set Kaladin off was a joke about Kaladin being a spoiled only child.
> 
> Kaladin slept even less than Adolin did those three nights between the makeout and the make-up (quelle surprise) which is why he’s worn out enough to lean against Adolin’s bedpost.
> 
> That line about “being less work” was a joke, Adolin and Shallan are quite happy together. :D
> 
> Also that Tempest quote is totally about death and I took it out of context to twist the meaning #sorrynotsorry (I mean it’s kind of a double meaning bc they were fighting so it’s like. What, you’re gonna kill me? Oh no my mouth won’t be cold uh-huhhh)


End file.
